


ITEOTWAWKIAIFF

by Bottomfeeder



Category: Nikita - Fandom
Genre: Alien Invasion, Apocalypse, F/M, Pre-Het, Unresolved Sexual Tension, apocalypse: alien invasion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-24
Updated: 2011-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bottomfeeder/pseuds/Bottomfeeder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikita and Owen have reactions to impending doom that some might consider inappropriate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ITEOTWAWKIAIFF

**Author's Note:**

> Why aren't more people writing this pairing, again? I mean seriously, it was like instant hotness the second these two shared screen time. Anyway, this started out as a sentence for 1sentence. So much for that. I am so desperate for more of these two. It is driving me insane. I didn’t even mean to write them, it just happened due to I guess fic-deprived insanity.
> 
> Gold Star for anyone who gets the title. I can’t tell how obvious or impossible it is. Also, I used Birkhoff's first name given in the older tv series, for lack of one supplied so far. I'll change it if it turns out this Birkhoff's first name is different.
> 
> Feedback including nitpicking always encouraged.

They’re standing on the top of the nearest hill with a relatively safe vantage point of what Michael had called The FUBAR to End All FUBARs the last time she'd seen him. Nikita looks up at the strange new sky humanity is left with after being thrashed by its terrifying new enemies: a boiling, restless black cracking open at odd intervals, revealing eerie lights shining absinthe and violet on the freshly broken faces of the city’s buildings. History crumbling at their feet as they speak.

But it's Owen's face that Nikita can't tear her eyes away from.

The former cleaner is all manic white teeth and dead-alive blue eyes sparking the glee of the damned. Life beyond taking down Division isn't as civilian as they'd first assumed. The shifting purple-green light in his blonde hair makes her fingers twitch. _Hardly the time, Nikita_ , is now a familiar internal refrain as she chides herself for the hundredth time since they took on what Birkhoff calls The Mother _fucker_ of Missions: Impossible.

As if any time would be a good time to start anything less-than-professional with the lunatic practically vibrating at her side.

Owen turns to her for confirmation of the exact category of shit storm they’re in, flashing a revenant’s smile. This close, his skin buzzes with a heat she can feel without touching him, with an energy that something inside her recognizes.

Nikita can’t bring herself to curse the fact that she’d been the one to start the ball rolling the day she poked her nose into Percy’s business in Montreal. Or at the very least, the moment she chained Owen to her bed and stripped him down to his boxer-briefs.

 _What_ had she been thinking, exactly? Right. That they could be partners in the mess they’d gotten themselves into. That they could help each other. And they have, strange as it is. More than she could ever have anticipated.

Already, it feels like another lifetime ago when government conspiracies were all either of them worried about. Funny, how it all seems so petty now. Nikita wonders just how many reincarnations she and her friends can get away with. Maybe the number is infinite. People like Michael and Alex and Owen and herself—even Birkhoff—seem to be made for a particular kind of nine-lives existence that normal people can’t seem to grasp hold of.

Incredibly, Nikita’s modified cell beeps again. She looks down at the text Birkhoff manages to send despite almost all other connections everywhere else being severed. Along with a pair of coordinates disguised in obscure pop culture references instead of encryption technology the aliens could hack, it reads:

  
**ITEOTWAWKIAIFF, how bout u? house par-tay at ETs! lets crash this mf!!**   


 

It’s one of the most intense and reassuring things she’s ever experienced, receiving proof that the alien apocalypse hasn’t smacked the smart-ass out of one morally-gray-yet-always-useful Seymour Birkhoff. Relief breaks over Nikita in waves, making her shudder with the force of it. She silently wills away any tears that threaten to fall.

Owen leans over her from behind then snorts in amusement. “Come on,” he says, nudging her shoulder with his own. "Let's go see if this Michael of yours has managed to get himself probed yet. I bet if you rescue him from _that_ , he'll forgive anything."

Nikita turns around and takes in the uniquely Owen mixture of sociopathic sweetness and rabid excitement playing on his face and suppresses a shiver.

This. This is what Nikita’s been waiting for. This is what will lead to her atonement for past sins. Finally. She can have her chance to literally save the world and she won't have to do it alone. She smiles back, knowing it mirrors his own insanity from the way his eyes widen and light up. _God, Nikita. Joy is such an inappropriate reaction._ Then again, maybe she’s in shock. She’s pretty sure that right this second, Birkhoff is exactly that.

Slinging her weapon back around her shoulder, Nikita slaps Owen lightly up the back of his head in lieu of petting it. She says softly, but out loud because it seems more likely to come true that way, "Hang on just a little longer, Alex. Help is coming."


End file.
